I was an Isis sex slave. I tell my story because it is the best weapon I have
The slave market opened at night. We could hear the commotion downstairs where militants were registering and organising, and when the first man entered the room, all the girls started screaming. It was like the scene of an explosion. We moaned as though wounded, doubling over and vomiting on the floor, but none of it stopped the militants. They paced around the room, staring at us, while we screamed and begged. They gravitated toward the most beautiful girls first, asking, “How old are you?” It was chaos while the militants paced the room, scanning girls and asking questions in Arabic or the Turkmen language. “Calm down!” While I lay there, another militant stopped in front of us. His eyes were sunk deep into the flesh of his wide face, which seemed to be nearly entirely covered in hair. Attacking Sinjar [in northern Iraq] and taking girls to use as sex slaves wasn’t a spontaneous decision made on the battlefield by a greedy soldier. Nadia Murad eventually escaped her Isis captors.
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